Wild Bill Jones

"I include this mainly because Wild Bill's reckless story snatches a grace from the old balladry -- two stanzas from 'The Lass of Roch Royal' (Child, No. 76)."

One day when I was rambling around,
	I met up with Wild Bill Jones
A-walking and a-talking to my Lula girl.
	I bid him to leve her alone.

"Well," said he, "my age is twenty-three --
	Too old to be controlled."
I drew my revolver from my side
	And destroyed that wild boy's soul.

He rolled and staggered and fell to the round,
	And he gave a dying moan,
And he placed his eyes on my Lula girl's face,
	Saying, "Darling, you're left all alone."

They carried me down to Beadsonville
	And locked me up in jail,
But the saddest thing I ever knew,
	Little Lula wouldn't go on my bail.

"Go bring me a pillow to lay my head on
	And a hammer for to beat out my brains,
For whiskey started me downward,
	And women have made me deranged."

Lula answered me with a quick reply,	
	Come and listen to what she said:
"Poor boy, I know you're in trouble to-day,
	But never hand down your head."

"O who's going to shoe your little feet,
	And who's going to glove your little hand,
And who's going to kiss your rosy red cheek
	When I'm in some far-off land?"

"O my papa will shoe my little feet,
	And mamma will glove my hand,
And you can kiss my red rosy cheeks
	When you come from a far-off land."

I got dollars in my pocketbook
	And a forty-five in my hand.
If you want to go out with a rowdy, boys,
	Cme and follow a gamblin' man.

O pass your jugs and your bottle around,
	Let's all get on a spree.
To-day was the last of Wild Bill Jones;
	To-morrow'll be the last of me.

-- A.P. Hudson, Folksongs of Mississippi (Chapel Hill, 1936), pp. 239-40.